Follow the Creed
by Miss M Cricket
Summary: When Al Mualim demotes Altair back to a Novice, and sends him out on missions to re-learn to be a Master Assassin, Altair is angry bur resigned. But unknown to Altair he sends another to follow him, and make sure he follows the Creed.
1. Chapter 1: Back to the Beginning

**Follow the Creed

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_Authors Note: I only recently got the game Assassins Creed and it is really awseome, taking me a while to get through it though, not because I don't want to finish but because my father needs the computer its on. Dammit. _

_Story Synopsis: Al Mualim demotes Altair back to a Novice, and sends him out on missions to re-learn to be a Master Assassin. But unknown to Altair he sends another to follow him, and make sure he follows the Creed._

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**Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed, Altair or any of the other characters or places featured in the game. The plot, for now, is running parallel to the game and so some of the dialogue is taken from there. Thus I do not own.**

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**Chapter 1 - Back to the Beginning**

Altair woke from the deepest sleep he had ever experienced, swimming up out of the blackness that engulfed him. How was it that he could wake? He had felt Al Mualim's knife enter him had felt the cold slide into the waiting arms of death. But here he was alive. Sitting up he rubbed his head and then immediately tensed as a movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye.

A white robed Assassin moved slowly and carefully into Altair's line of sight. Altair relaxed as he recognised him, "Aden." He greeted, voice rough with the disuse of the just-woken. Aden was one of the Assassins younger than him, and showed great potential. He had a great skill with blending and his work with his secret knife was exceptional. As far as Altair could tell his weakness was with a blade. Not a good swordsman at all.

"Altair." The young Assassin greeted in return, voice a light tenor but still cool with professionalism. "I have been asked to show you to the Master. He wishes to speak to you of your future, now that the danger of the Templar knights has dissipated." There was no inflection of blame in the unemotional statement but Altair tensed, dark eyes glaring at the smaller, younger figure.

"Watch yourself Aden, I am still your superior." The dark eyed Assassin warned, standing and drawing his hood up over his head. 'An out of favour superior', he thought, with a small pang of anxiety, 'One who doesn't know what is going to happen to him now'. Aden however didn't say anything in response to Altair's rebuke; he just inclined his head and indicated the doorway to the small bedchamber.

"Follow me Altair, if you would."

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"You'll see you have been stripped of all your possessions. Your rank as well. You're a Novice. A child once more, as you were on the day you first joined our order. I am offering you a chance of redemption, you'll earn your way back into the Brotherhood."

"I assume you've something planned." Altair's voice was cold, he felt completely numb. Punishment he had been expecting, but to be stripped of everything? How Abbas and Malak would laugh and sneer at him. They were now 'his' superiors, and Aden, whom he had just scolded for being disrespectful, he too was his superior. That young puppy, barely 23 years of age, was of a higher rank than He, he who was his elder in age and experience. It was almost intolerable.

"First you must prove to me you remember how to be an Assassin." Al Mualim's words dragged Altair's consciousness back to the conversation at hand.

There was a pause as Al Mualim moved back behind his desk and Altair processed the words "So you'd have me take a life." Altair prompted when it appeared that the Master wasn't going to supply him with information immediately.

"No, not yet at least." Altair turned away in disgust but quickly turned back when the older man added the 'not yet'. "For now you are to become a student once again.

"There is no need for this." The dark eyed assassin gave one attempt to try and convince the Master against this course of action.

"Others tracked your Talkers for you," the Master continued ignoring the outburst from the Assassin before him. "But no more. From today on you will track them yourself."

"If that is what you wish." Altair's voice was icy; it was obvious that he was very displeased by the way this conversation was going. But it was also very clear that he had no say in it at all. He was there to listen, and accept, not argue.

"It is." Al Mualim's voice was solid with finality.

"Then tell me what it is that I must do." Altair still didn't sound happy but there was resignation in his voice. Al Mualim went on to explain the man's mission and Altair left, movements stiff with injured pride.

There was silence for a minute or so and then Al Mualim moved to the flag just off the side of his office and pulled it back. Aden stepped out and faced the Master; hood down over eyes the colour of dark amber. "What is your will?" Aden asked, voice cool.

"I want you to watch him, I need to be sure he won't break the Creed and place us all in danger again."

"This will be a long term assignment then, he will want to regain his old position." The observation was a shrewd one, Altair was well known for his ambition and desire for control.

"Yes he will." Al Mualim agreed, "And getting it back will take time. It will be very useful to use an Assassin of his skill for tasks he would normally scorn." The old Master smiled down at the small delicately built Assassin and waved his hand, dismissing him.

Aden bowed and quickly followed Altair.

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"I did what I believed was right. And if you must kill me for it, so be it. I am not afraid to die."

"Your fate is not for me to decide." Altair sneered, looming over the man on his knees, "It is Al Mualim who will judge." He looked around and spotted a white figure sitting on the bench in the alley leading to the secluded garden.

"Brother!" he called, the figure turned its head and Altair recognised the stubborn chin and bowed lips of the fellow Assassin. Aden stood and quickly moved over to Altair, looking down at their ex-brother at the Assassins feet.

"Altair." Aden said, looking up at the dark eyed man, and raising an eyebrow. "I would ask why there is a Brother of ours on his knees before you." The dark amber eyes were unflinchingly fixed on Altair's own dark brown.

"Al Mualim sent me to find the traitor in our midst. I have tracked the blame to this…thing." Altair gave the man kneeling before them a contemptuous look. "Will you aid me in getting him up to the Tower?"

"Of course." Aden said, leaning down and hauling up the traitor. Altair then grabbed the other arm and the pair of them marched the man out through the crowded marketplace. Stares and whispers followed them and while Altair caught many of the looks and returned them with a glare or an icy look, Aden just walked silently on the other side, head lowered, implacable behind the hood of white.

"What business did you have in the Marketplace Aden?" Altair asked, turning his head so he could look at the smaller Assassin. Aden did not look up but kept moving, head lowered.

"I had run out of some of my Healing supplies. The Master has given me forewarning of much travelling to be done across the length of the Kingdom. It does me good to be prepared, as well you know Altair." There was the smallest hint of a rebuke in the small man's voice and Altair glared at him for a moment.

"I won't be in this lowly state for long Aden."

"I'm sure." Was the calm response. Infuriating man, Altair thought, yanking the traitor a little harder to release some of his annoyance at the other Assassin. "I can take him from here." He growled, tugging the traitor up inside the gates of the Tower.

"Of course." Aden said with a small secret smile. "May fortune guide your blade."

"And yours." Altair replied, and quickly marched his captive off. Time to complete this ridiculous task and regain his rank.

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_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

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And there you have it, the first chapter of my first Assassin's Creed Story.

Hope you Enjoyed

LF


	2. Chapter 2: Demotion in Damascus

**Follow the Creed**

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_Definitions:_

_Aden – Fiery One_

_Ghada - Graceful_

_Kadin - Friend_

_Authors Note: So here is chapter 2, I had originally thought to keep the revelation of this chapter later, but I then re-considered. Just cause we know doesn't mean Altair does. Hope you enjoy guys. _

_Reviewer Shout out: Hurrah to _Sanriko _my one and only reviewer so far! If you hadn't reviewed, this story would look very sad._

_Disclaimer: As on chapter 1._

**Chapter 2 - Demotion in Damascus**

It was too late that night for Altair to start his journey to Damascus. It turned out that the task Al Mualim had assigned him had been the first of many such. 9 men had to die before Altair regained his place in the ranks of the Brotherhood. The master Assassin sighed with exasperation as he robed himself the next morning. Nine Assassinations? That would take him a number of months. Redemption, it seemed, wasn't an easy thing to gain.

After showing some of the Novices how to wield a blade in the training ground, Altair made his way down to the stables outside of the city. The horses here were all communal, all belonged to the Brotherhood and thus all were ridden out when the men went out on their Assassination missions. The animals within all seemed to change from month to month as some were lost on mission and others were appropriated to take their places. But there were three who always come back.

Upon entering the stables Altair noted that the black mare, which the stable hands had named Ghada was not there and there was a small card attached to her stable. The card held the symbol of the Assassins and a name.

Aden.

Altair scowled. That boys name was coming up too often for his liking, there was a reason he has been distancing himself from other Assassins, they annoyed him. The ones who respected him bordered on respectful adoration that made him uncomfortable at the same time as it warmed his ego, and the others treated him with jealous contempt. Aden however treated him like he was an equal, and he had discovered that that annoyed him even more than the other two types.

Brushing thoughts of the delicate Assassin aside Altair mounted up on Kadin, the white stallion, and rode out towards Damascus.

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Altair separated from his small group of scholars just beyond the entrance gate to Damascus. At once he scanned the crowd, eyes resting on individuals that caught his attention. Guards patrolled, hands on the hilts of swords. This was an unsettled time in these cities, with the Crusade going on. At the stall next to him a lovely young woman was buying some dried dates, and over there on those benches were some allies. Seated with them he could hide from the scrutiny of any unwanted attention.

Beside him the young woman looked up, large dark amber eyes widening. He realised he had been staring around him openly, with no concern for his cover. Quickly he ducked his head, hands piously clasped together. The young woman looked at him worriedly a few moments more before collecting her dates and scuttling off into the crowd.

Slowly the Assassin moved off, slipping easily through the crowd, head still bent. Subtly he glanced to the left and right. Here and there were guards, but they weren't even looking at him. Ah the power of the mob, blend in and you were sheltered from all prying eyes.

Ducking down an alley he found a ladder, up onto the roofs he climbed. Here he felt even safer. Rooftops were the highways of the Assassins. No guard ever looked up, citizens only rarely spotted a white blur racing by. Most of the time they thought they were dreaming. Altair leapt across the beams of the connecting house frameworks and over a trellis until he came to the open roof of the Assassins Bureau.

Dropping down, silently like a cat, the Assassin moved into the main room of the Bureau. There Rafik waited for him.

"Altair, It's good to see you, and in one piece." The richly dressed Contact murmured, looking up from the book situated on his counter as the darkly handsome Assassin walked in. Many men underestimated Altair, but Rafik was not one of them. The man was dangerous, demoted now maybe, but still dangerous. Perhaps even more so since his demotion.

"You as well friend." Altair murmured. He liked Rafik, and had been saddened when an injury had forced the man to take a more administrative role in the brotherhood. It was good he had this role now in the Bureau in Damascus.

"I am sorry for your troubles." Was the courteous statement in reply. Rafik had been surprised to receive Al Mualim's letter, but then again Altair had always been a bit headstrong.

"Think nothing of it." Was Altair's response, brushing off his problems with brusque dislike. He didn't like to be reminded of his recent demotion.

"A few of your Brothers were in here earlier in fact. Ooh if you had heard the things they said. I'm certain you would have slain them where they stood."

"It's quite alright." Altair rumbled, feeling annoyance ripple through him. He wondered how many other Brothers Malik had poisoned towards him. Later he would have to get the names from Rafik. Just before leaving maybe. Then the other man might be more willing.

"Yes you've never been one for the Creed have you?" Rafik sighed. So much potential and so much stubbornness.

"Is that all." Was Altair's cold response, even friends could step over the line sometimes.

"I'm sorry." Rafik said ironically. "Sometimes I forget myself. What business brings you to Damascus?"

"A man named Tamir." Altair said, voice becoming professional and businesslike. "Al Mualim takes issue with the work he does. I'm meant to end it. Now tell me where to find him." Even for Altair this was intolerably rude and Rafik bristled. Al Mualim was right to demote this arrogant pup, he thought; time to lose that arrogance before we lose the talent along with it.

"Surely you remember how to track an enemy."

"Of course."

"Learn where he will be an when." Rafik continued as if he had not heard the other man.

"But that sort of work is best left for-" Altair stopped before the next word left his mouth. 'Novices'. "I understand." He said quietly.

"Go and search the city." Rafik said, more kindly now, standing up and moving closer to the bench. "Determine what he is planning and where he works. Preparation makes the victor." He said, quoting an old training saying and spreading his arms with a grin.

"What can you tell me of him?" Altair asked, with a slight emphasis on the 'can'. Rafik smiled. It might take time, but Altair would learn. He was not so stubborn as to be completely stupid.

"Tamir makes his living as a Black Market merchant, so the Souk District should be your destination…"

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The young woman with the dates, turned the corner and then immediately blended back into the crowd heading back the way she had came, just in time to see the man in white slip off.

He now moved with the shuffle of a scholar, back bent from long hours reading a poorly lit scroll. It was very convincing and she would have believed it, if she hadn't seen the eagle eyed stare he had been giving the crowd.

The gaze was dark and brooding, and well un-scholar like. She knew scholars, and they were usually near sighted and rather vague, wrapped up in their learning rather than the world around them.

She saw him dart down and alleyway and quickly followed, watching as he climbed up on the rooftops. She hesitated for a heartbeat or two at the bottom of the steps. Should she follow? Yes but wait a bit, she counselled herself. She waited and then climbed up, watching as the white robed man leapt across the rooftops. Gingerly she followed, her many layers of robes and female dress were not designed for roof clambering.

Soon enough she reached the rooftop from which she had seen the man in white vanish. There, there was a square gap, bordered by trellises. And down below was the man in white, resting on pillows. She shrank back and waited, listening. When she was sure he was sleeping she slid over the edge of the trellis and dropped down.

Peering at the figure on the cushions she was relieved to see he hadn't woken, and so moved over to the door.

Rafik looked up and smiled. "Well Aden? How did he do?"

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_Now now, before you all close this story in disgust, Aden is not, and will never be a Mary Sue. She and Altair will have a romance but it wont be coming until later. Though she can admire him from a distance. This will be a long fic, possibly around 100 chapters. Ambitious I know but hey. Whats life without a little ambition._

_Read and If you like Review. If you dont like, well you can just leave and read something else. Dont want to hear about it._

_LF_

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	3. Chapter 3: Civic Duties

**Follow the Creed**

_Authors Note: So it appears I'm on a bit of a roll with this story (touch wood). I have already written up to chapter 5, and am now working on 6 so expect regular updates. This chapter is when we start getting a bit deeper into the personalities of Altair our mysterious assassin and Aden. I do have work all tomorrow so it might be Sat when 4 comes out. But dont bet on it ;) I like chapter 4 the best so far._

_Review Shout Outs: Thank you to _devilangel123 _and _Ideas-are-real _for their wonderful reviews. You are both wonderful and I hope you keep reading and enjoying the Assassins Creed love._

_Disclaimer: Same as on chapter 1 guys, hasn't changed._

**Chapter 3 - Civic Duties**

The next day started early for Aden, despite having had a conversation with Rafik which had stretched long into the evening. All light had been extinguished in the city by the time the small Assassin had decided to call it a night.

Rafik knew all about Tamir, his workings, his contacts, where he would be and why he would be there. Information was power after all, especially in their business. And for Aden, information would help her keep tabs on where Altair was going, if she lost him in the bustling crowds of the city.

"Like I told Altair, Tamir is a black market merchant; he deals with weapons and armor. The city guards are given a hefty purse to ignore the goings on in Tamir's main Souk, the Souk El-sala. Men have died before in that part of the city, and the deaths have never been investigated. However if Altair manages to kill Tamir, then the guards will not stand idly by. He also has a personal guard, the numbers grow with the days. Altair will discover, through his investigations, of a meeting to be held at Souk El-Sala in a few days time. Tamir will be distracted by the intricacies of his work and his guards will be blinded by crowds. Altair will come back here before he goes to assassinate Tamir, I will quiz him on his findings, and you will give me confirmation that the Creed has not been breached."

"I understand." Aden murmured, chin propped on her hand. She was thinking of how to keep tabs on Altair. The man would be unlikely to walk slowly throughout the entire city and let the other assassin follow on the roofs. She needed a plan, or an idea.

Rafik watched her, wry smile in place. "I'll assume that the official talk is now out of the way." He said, touching her hand gently. "Now let me ask, as your uncle, how are you Aden?"

Jolted out of her thoughts, Aden smiled ruefully at her uncle and relaxed. The formality of the meeting eased as they slipped into their roles, not as Bureau Leader and Assassin but as Uncle and Niece.

"I am well Uncle Rafik. The Assassins lifestyle suits me, and as I told you when I wrote, I graduated a year ago from the Novice ranks. But Al Mualim hasn't assigned me a task in Damascus yet, as you know you aren't allowed to perform Assassinations in your home city until 2 years have passed."

"I know the rule, and that is why you are allowed here for this mission is that not correct? You aren't the assassin this time, just the watcher." Aden nodded, taking a small sip of water.

"Also perhaps because he knows I am female." She murmured, stroking a finger around the edge of her small clay cup. "He has the view that women are good at investigations, but not the task itself. I fear I play into his prejudices by being so appalling at swordplay."

Rafik laughed softly. He had been the one to teach her sword work, and had been amused by how difficult it had been for her. All other assassin crafts had come easy to the small woman, but not sword-work. "You learned to be competent however." He said, taking a gulp of wine from his own metal goblet. "Don't tell me you lost that competency while learning with the other apprentices."

"No," Aden admitted, dark amber eyes exasperated. "I am still 'competent'" she pulled a face at the word. "But assassins are not meant to be merely competent uncle. Guards are trained warriors and I have come close, so very many times, to being at the wrong end of a steel blade. It's better if I can sneak up to them and kill them with the hidden blade, or a throwing knife from a distance. Swords are so cumbersome."

Rafik reached over and patted his young nieces chocolate brown hair. "Ah well, you know what that means don't you my child?"

She smiled at him, standing and gathering up her Assassins clothing.

"It means I have to practice more."

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She smiled at the memory of the previous nights talk, and she was about to sink into more reveries but she heard the soft whisper of cloth that was her only warning. Lightly she leapt up, climbing to a vantage point of the raised part of the roof beside the Bureau and pressing herself to the stone. She was wearing her assassins garb and the sandy colour of the robe blended her form into the stone.

Altair climbed up, seemingly effortlessly out of the Bureau and crouched on the rooftop, getting his bearings. Aden allowed herself a single moment of girlish pleasure at the sight of his muscles through the assassins garb and the light that illuminated his soft lips. And then she snapped herself out of it. She was not here to be a woman; she was here as a man, an assassin and she had a task to do. She had to watch this mans back, make sure he kept to the Creed and also remain undetected by him.

She could only imagine Altair's displeasure at finding out he was under supervision.

Then Altair moved, running lightly along the rooftop until he could leap from the edge, to a hanging platform, used to raise and lower items, and on to awning over the street. Instantly she was after him, but she streaked silently over to the other corner and leapt to another rooftop, always keeping the other moving assassin in her sights. When he looked around she dropped to the ground in a roll, and when he leapt, she followed as best she may.

However she was feeling the strain as her quarry finally dropped to the sandy streets of Damascus. Now she could follow much more sedately as both the crowd, and also his disguise as a scholar restricted Altair. Aden smiled as she watched his slow shambling walk. It was a good imitation of the scholars' pious shamble and the guards were paying no attention to him at all, their watchful eyes sliding over the white hooded figure, dismissing him as unimportant.

The trouble started in a small courtyard, off the main street through the poor district. An attractive young woman was being buffeted about by a group of five or six guards. They were tugging at her clothes, leering and mocking and their abrasive laughter was the first thing that caught Aden's attention. She watched, feeling pity for the poor woman, knowing she could not compromise her mission to help her. Altair was her focus, and he…was making a beeline for the guards and woman.

Good, if Altair got involved then she was allowed to as well, just as long as she didn't let Altair see her helping.

"You there!" the guard standing watch at the front of the group barked at Altair who was moving purposefully towards him, "You got something to say?"

Aden moved silently so she was above the group, knowing that once the fight started the crowds would flee, hampering the arrival of yet more guards. Her dark eyes, shielded from the sun by the smooth cowl of her hood scanned the courtyard. She was sure that Altair had noted the absence of any other guards other than the ones tormenting the young woman. Now would be the time to strike.

And strike he did, in a flurry of creamy robe and shining steel. The guard was taken by surprise as the sword plunged into the gap of his cuirass, where his neck met his shoulder. He died in a splash of red blood and with a gurgling cry.

At once there was panic all around.

The crowd stampeded, as Aden had known they would. The other tormentors let go of the woman and turned on Altair and advanced as a unit, watching his sword, waiting for an opening. As the swordfight commenced, Aden watched for a single moment of pure envy. Oh that man was pure magic with a blade, why couldn't she be like that? Then noting that the dust was swirling, stirred up by the people running, and the combatants shuffling and leaping, she dropped from her rooftop, landing behind the woman.

"Don't just stand there." She hissed at the still figure, "Run!"

The woman gasped and turned, seeing her standing there in the same clothes as her mysterious rescuer. "I wanted to thank him." She said, gesturing at the melee.

"Thank him after, if he lives." Aden said brutally, "But for now, get out of sight, if those guards finish him off they will be back for you.

That sent her scurrying off to shelter and left Aden free to do what she could to help Altair.

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_So hope you liked. Please drop a review in if you enjoyed, but if you hated then, how have you gotten this far into the story? _

_LF_

PS: _The page breaks hate me!_


	4. Chapter 4: You Must Learn Your Place

**Follow the Creed**

_Authors Note: Here we go, chapter 4. This is an action packed chapter with the ends of the investigations and the assassination of Tamir. Hope you all enjoy it. Chapter 5 should be up tomorrow, but it wont be as good as this one. However it will have some more Altair and Aden interaction._

_Reviewer Shout Out: Thank you to _vanillathunder215 _for your review. I was concerned about the Aden revelation, I know many people are wary of female OC's for the reason of Mary Sues but I am hoping that Aden is no where near that. She has a very firm make up in my head, sensual but closed off and formal for protection. Hope you continue enjoying this story :)_

_Disclaimer: As on chapter 1. In short form I dont own anyone except for Aden. _

**Chapter 4 - You Must Learn Your Place**

Altair knew he was outnumbered, six to one in fact. Well five to one really since he had dispatched the one in front with such ease. They were pushing him back, across the courtyard, their blows raining down so that he was hard pressed to counter them all. They were trying to box him in; it was a common ploy to restrict an opponent's movement.

Still they were no match for him; he was a protégé, as the French invaders would say. He had been top in the class for sword fighting back when he was a mere Novice and he had had years of on the job assignments to hone his natural talent and skill.

There! An opening! At once his sword flashed into the small gap in the soldiers guard. Blood splattered everywhere, as his backhanded slash ripped open the man's throat. His victim fell but he was once again occupied, leaping back a pace as the guard on his left swung his sword, trying to cleave Altair in two.

Four on one. These odds were looking better and better. He gave a small feral grin, watching each of the men clustered around him one by one. The one in the center lunged, and the assassin quickly brought his sword up to block. Immediately they both disengaged and Altair went on the attack. Blows rained down on the beleaguered guard as he backed away. Altair followed, sweeping his sword around and around. There! He missed the guard's clumsy counter strike and thrust his blade back into the belly of the guard. He heard the man grunt from behind him and the sound of him sliding off the length of steel onto the ground.

It was then he remembered the other three and looked up, surprised he hadn't been awarded a blade in the back. Foolish to get so carried away with one opponent as to forget the others.

However he couldn't see anyone there. Except, there on the ground was one of the remaining three, he was sure of it. Moving over, he bent over the corpse and examined it.

He had died from a knife in the back, but the blade had gone.

The assassin looked up. There was no sign of the two remaining guards or his mysterious helper. However the crowds were coming slowly back to the courtyard and a little ways away he could hear the tramp of soldiers' boots. He stood and ran lightly through the crowd, the people parting before him and ducked behind a plant as the reinforcements entered the courtyard.

"Where is the one responsible!?" roared the leader of the new group of guards. There were some half hearted mutterings, some people looked around in confusion but no one called out where he was. He was safe, for now.

"Sir." A soft voice breathed beside him. Altair whipped around, angry rebuff poised on his lips. They died as he recognized the woman he had rescued. "I couldn't leave without thanking you," she said, dark eyes glowing.

* * *

Aden pelted down a side-street, hurtling through the crowd that thronged through the narrow passage. "Get out of my way bleaters!" she yelled, shoving as many people as she could out of the way.

This was not the place to get into a sword fight; in fact she would rather not ever get into a sword fight again. All she needed was a little space and then she would climb out of danger. But space was proving to be a precious commodity in this enclosed space.

"Move!" Aden barked, feeling panic beginning to swell up under her breastbone. She threw herself around a corner and felt the breeze which could only mean space. Her eyes lifted and rested on a supporting beam, jutting out of the wall a little ways. Without even thinking about it, she leapt. She heard the whistle of steel in the air and a second later, felt her robe flap a little at her side. She ignored it. Next moment her hands had caught the beam and she was swinging up.

Climbing deftly she was up on the roof in a matter of moments, the cries of the guards below ringing in her ears. Swiftly she leapt from support to support, balcony to balcony and roof to roof, until finally she found a small sunshade structure. She dived in, not a moment too soon as a guard clambered up onto the roof via a nearby ladder.

Aden lay still, barely even breathing as she listened to the man check the rooftops nearby for her. "This is pointless." A man growled, followed by another grunt of assertion. There had been two? How had she missed hearing the other one? Still they were leaving now and that was the main thing.

But Aden didn't dare move until dusk had closed in around the city. Then and only then did she crawl out of hiding and make her way back to the bureau.

* * *

The next two days were much less eventful than that first morning.

When Aden had slipped through the street entrance to the Bureau, side wet with dark blood and pale with pain and blood loss, Rafik hadn't asked questions. Altair had returned earlier, he informed her, apparently after the rescue they had performed, the guards were all a bit too jumpy to continue being anonymous. Apparently the dark eyed assassin was planning on continuing his information gathering the next day.

And Aden had followed, her side tightly bound up with clean linen bandages and salved with some herbs, which had properties known for healing. Fortunately for the younger assassin, Altair gathered nothing more than information, and stayed completely anonymous the entire time.

On the evening of the third or fourth day since they came to Damascus Altair returned to the Bureau with all the information he needed to complete the mission. He knew about the meeting, the personal guards and about Tamir's merchant enterprise. Rafik, pleased, had given him leave to assassinate the Black market merchant and Altair slept, dreaming of being restored to his rightful place in the ranks of the Brotherhood.

* * *

"All I asked in return was that you fill the orders I bring you, and you say I ask too much?" there was pure menace in the black market merchants voice. In the crowd, Altair shifted slightly so as to blend in with the other people around him even more. Blood was about to be spilled, he could smell it. High above, on a rooftop Aden watched eyes wide. Why couldn't the death dealer's employee hear the venom in Tamir's voice? Self preservation warned the assassin that now would be the time to run. "You dare disrespect me?"

"Peace Tamir, I meant no insult."

Too late, both Aden and Altair thought unbeknownst to each other, much too late.

"Then you should have kept your mouth shut!" And so saying Tamir drew his blade and slashed the other man across his side.

"No! Stop!" the doomed man cried out in pain.

"Stop?" sneered Tamir, bloodlust on his face. "Ha ha! I'm just getting started!"

He then proceeded to lay into the other man with his blade, striking and striking again, but not dealing one that would be fatal. Detachedly Aden recognized that Tamir was performing not only an execution, but also a lesson. A lesson so no one would dare stand against him again. The victim screamed and begged and writhed, blood splattered and still there was no mortal blow.

Suddenly there was a pause and Tamir spoke. "You came into _my_ Souk, stood before _my_ men and dared to insult _me_!?"

The merchant grabbed the dying man and shoved him into the ground and began stabbing again and again, punctuating his next words. "You. Must. Learn. Your. Place!" and then with a final blow, threw the finally dead man into the pool.

There was silence all around and even the two assassins were shocked at the brutality of the murder just committed. Altair looked around, true to what he had found out the city guards just walked idly nearby, watching the scene that played out before them but not making any move to stop or restrain the merchant.

A member of the guard moved forward to remove the corpse but Tamir held out his arm, shaking his head. "No. Leave the body. Let this be a lesson to the rest of you." He said, cold eyes scanning the silent crowd. "Think twice before you tell me something cannot be done. Now get back to work."

Disgust and dislike welled up in Aden as she moved to keep Altair and Tamir in view. The merchant was now moving, moving past the now defiled pool and walking just past Altair. Aden held her breath, surely he would strike now?

He did.

In a great rush of movement the dark eyed assassin leapt through the flimsy barrier of bodies, between he and Tamir, and his blade flashed before slicing into the man. Time seemed to slow, as Altair caught his victim and lowered him so that he landed in the pool beside the other dead man.

Aden knew why Altair's eyes were movements were sluggish, he was having that final communion that all assassins have with their victims. Some cursed them, some pleaded innocence and some begged forgiveness. In the moment of peace before the storm Aden wondered what Tamir had said.

There was a single moment of shocked silence and then mayhem broke loose.

"ASSASSIN!" screamed the guards, city and personal alike. Up in the great bell tower, the bell began to toll a city alert. All of the guards charged for Altair but the man was already on his way out of the souk, pulling down merchant awnings and flimsy structures as he went. Up onto the roofs he fled and disappeared.

The guards followed in a living tide.

Aden paused, up in her nook on the wall and looked down at the suddenly empty square.

The two corpses floated in the pool, water stained bright crimson with their combined blood. The murderer had become the murdered.

Aden smiled coldly and hurried away.

* * *

_There we go, Chapter 4. Chapter 5 will be up tomorrow but until then I hope you all continue to enjoy. Also I do have the stats page on my user profile. I do see lots of hits and only a scattering of reviews. I would like your opinions, unless they are negative, in which case they arent needed. Mainly cause im hard enough on myself as is._

_LF_


	5. Chapter 5: Track Troubles

**Follow the Creed**

* * *

_Authors Notes: Right so chapters 5 and 6 wont be my greatest chapters ever, sorry guys but the creative juices had a bit of a hiccup over the weekend. I seem to write better on actual computers at University rather than at home on my laptop. Ah well. Chapter 7 will be a return to the high speed action._

_First time reviewer Shout outs: Thank you lots to _Taggert58 and hpjedi1 _for their lovely reviews. Hope you guys return and read again. Special thanks to _Taggert58_, for the compliment, im honnoured you think so._

_Returning reviewer Shout Out: _Sanriko, _yes this was definately not a yaoi/slash fic, but it will be a while before the romance begins to asser itself. And Altair might begin to like Aden before he realises she is a girl. Theres a bit of angst for you!_

_Disclaimer: Still don't own anything, cept for Aden._

* * *

**Chapter 5 - Track Troubles**

Much as Aden would have loved to spend another few days in her native home of Damascus, her duty was clear; She had to get back to Masyaf and report on Altair's success. He would give details of the assassination, but she had to let Al Mualim know that the talented assassin hadn't broken the creed. Indeed she carried a letter from Rafik that also told the story of Altair's obedience, and his thoroughness in investigating Tamir.

So while the city seethed with the news of an assassination and guards combed the city, searching for the assassin in white, she dressed in a non descript dress of faded blue and left the city.

The guards let her go of course, after all who would think of a woman being an assassin.

* * *

It was the next day before the city calmed down enough for Altair to leave.

Rafik had been exceptionally helpful, contacting a few scholar friends of his and asking them to meet Altair in a secluded courtyard not far from the Bureau and escort him out of the city. It was just too dangerous for white robed men to be out on their own. Especially white robed men who carried weaponry like Altair.

Still, even protected in a circle of white robed scholars, Altair could feel the sweat darkening his clothes as they passed by the guards. If they suspected, Altair would be trapped by the real scholars, unable to strike at the guards for fear of hurting one of them.

But they did not suspect and did not stop the group of scholars as they left the city.

* * *

The trouble started for Aden as she rode along the Damascus road. She had stopped to change her clothing, out of the womanly trappings and into her lighter and freer assassins garb and she now rode as a man, head ducked against the glare of the sun and also the looks of passers by.

Ghada, picked her way around the rocks in the road with ease and the young woman began to relax. Maybe this journey would be less troublesome than others she had made in the Kingdom.

Then a woman, in the crowd streaming from Damascus, stumbled and collided with Ghada, tumbling under the black mares sharp hooves.

Screaming rent the air, cries of indignation and Ghada reared, the whites of her eyes showing as she danced on her hind legs. Naturally a nearby guard looked around at the noise and at once looked from Aden's white robe and hooded face to the bruised and bloody woman at her horses feet.

"I am so sorry…" Aden began saying to the woman, but was interrupted by a roar from the nearby guard.

"ASSASSIN!"

Instinct immediately took over and Aden kicked Ghada hard. The black mare shot forward thundering past the still yelling guard and off down the road.

Aden crouched down in the saddle, moving with the black mare as they galloped hell-for-leather. The news of an assassin was spreading quickly, with guards up ahead hearing the ruckus from behind and turning as she thundered past. Very soon she heard the answering pounding of hooves as the guards that could, mounted up and took off after her.

The young assassin looked back over her shoulder, there were ten men pursuing her and their horses were fresh. Ghada had been ridden for a few hours on this dusty road already. But then again she was much lighter than her pursuers, and she probably knew the hiding spots a bit better. She just needed to gain a bit more space between them…

* * *

Altair noticed the black mare before he saw the man in white seated beside it.

He had seen signs of trouble a couple of miles back. Blood stains on rocks and a dead guard by the side of the road. He had seen the extra vigilance of the guards and he had also seen how their eyes lingered on his white robe.

It had added up to another assassin having passed through, but he hadn't expected his thoughts to be so utterly confirmed.

Aden was seated by the side of the road, tucked into the haystack, head turned towards him. He was certain that had he not been a friend that the other assassin would have disappeared into that haystack in a flash.

He drew Kadin up beside Ghada and looked down at the smaller assassin. "Greetings to you Aden." He drawled. The younger man looked up at him and Altair blinked as he caught a more open look at his almond shaped, dark amber coloured eyes. Aden wasn't handsome, or even pretty. He wasn't even cute, Altair thought idly. But he did have something, a kind of exoticness about his features. Attractive, but not eye catching.

"Good day to you Altair," Aden replied in that light tenor voice, which still managed to sound cool and haughty despite the differences in their heights.

"Trouble?" The dark eyed assassin goaded, hoping to get a reaction out of Aden. The lad was much too closed off, surely it wasn't healthy to be so separate.

"Some."

"How long have you been here?" Altair asked, his dark eyes looking at the comfortable hollow in the haystack. That hadn't naturally happened so Aden must have been here since...

"Yesterday evening."

"From where were you coming?" he asked letting Kadin have a small munch at the hay.

Aden gave a small cat like smile and Altair felt his mouth curl in annoyance. He always forgot how antagonizing speaking with Aden was, until he started talking to the man again. And then he remembered. "Jerusalem." Was the soft reply.

"Easy job?"

"Relatively. You?"

"Damascus. And yes it was easy." He tilted his head proudly, daring the other man to say anything. He didn't of course but he could almost hear Aden's thoughts considering how accurate he was being. "I won't be at this rank for long."

"You said that last time we met as well." Aden jibed, popping a piece of straw between his lips and chewing. Altair's jaw tightened and his dark eyes darkened even more. Danger seemed to colour the air around the two.

"Careful, brother." Altair's voice was a dangerous croon. "There is nothing in the Creed about slaying a member of the order."

Aden hadn't moved but Altair saw the tensing of the man's muscles and the hardened jut of the jaw. "You should be careful too brother. After all I doubt our other brothers would take to kindly to you being responsible for another family death."

He had gone to far. Altair was off his horse in a moment and crouched over the other man, his hidden blade pressed against the throbbing vein in the delicate throat. His other hand held Aden pinned against the ground and their faces were mere inches apart.

"Kadar's death was not my fault." Altair hissed.

"Malak says…"

"Allah curse what Malak says." The hidden blade pressed closer and tiny ruby beads of blood welled up along the length of steel. Aden's eyes never flickered from Altair's face.

"You won't kill me."

"You sound awfully certain, brother."

"Al Mualim will not forgive another error, Altair. You know this. That is why I am still breathing. You love life too much to kill me, knowing that it might jeopardize your life in return."

"I hate you." Altair breathed, re-sheathing the hidden blade with a sharp hiss.

"I love you too brother." Aden murmured back, only then withdrawing the dagger that he had been holding pressed against Altair's spine.

* * *

Altair did not like being thwarted, but he knew his position in the brotherhood was tenuous at best. As Aden had said, he only had to make one error and his life would end in a public execution. Oh how Abbas and Malak would love that.

The two assassins rode on together, not speaking a word to each other but knowing secretly that there was safety in numbers. The guards were looking for a white robed assassin. Not two. After all Assassin's worked alone.

Their pace was slow due to the strain Ghada had received during her and Aden's headlong gallop for safety. It had been the reason for the small woman's rest by the roadside and after a small break they continued, Aden leading Ghada and Altair riding on Kadin.

It was with heavy hearts that they realized the slow pace meant another night camped on the road. Altair rode ahead, scouting out a place to sleep, while Aden muttered curse words under her breath. Sleeping at a campsite with Altair was not a good idea. Her hood could come off. At times she sleep talked and when she did her voice lost the rough boyishness she had cultivated.

When she slept she sounded like the woman she was.

So it was that after Altair fell asleep and the campfire embers had dimmed, Aden crept away into the night, leaving Ghada and Kadin and stealing a grey mare from a nearby horse breeder's corral.

By the light of the full moon the young woman galloped for Masyaf.

* * *

_Like I said, Its not my greatest work ever. But its a good filler. Stay tuned for Chapter 6 coming soon. I've resolved not to post the chapter before until I have finished writing the next chapter, hence the pause between Chapter 4 and 5._

_Hope you all enjoyed. Drop me a review you 200 or so people who are looking at this story, I see you :D_

_LF_


	6. Chapter 6: Rebukes and Rebuttals

**Follow the Creed**

* * *

_Authors Note: Yes I know, truely appalling am I. However I did say that I wouldn't post a chapter until I wrote the one following it. So Chapter 7 is finally completed and so Chapter 6 can be finally posted. Like I have said, this chapter is not my greatest work. However there will be more seat of your pants action in the next chapter. With an unexpected truce between Aden and Altair, which goes a bit....wrong._

_First time reviewer shoutouts: _oOthe assassinOo, Heath, DetectiveTective, JadziaCee, Time-of-my-life, DarkSpidey _and_ mw _whoes review was the final catalyst for me to finish the ellusive chapter 7. Thank you for your reviews guys! Keep enjoying._

_Returning Reviewers: _Suck-a-butt _and_ hpjedi1 _hope you both keep enjoying it and liking the characters._

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Rebukes and Rebuttals**

It was late afternoon in the Tower and Al Mualim was seated, reclining back in his chair as he listened to Altair's report on the death of Tamir. Nearby Aden stood too, for now ignored by the other two men, but watching everything closely.

"Significance comes not from a single act but from the context in which it was performed. The consequences born of it." Al Mualim tapped the table to accent his point, shrewdly watching the white robed assassin before him.

"Then is there more I need to know?"

"Tamir spoke as if he knew you well. He implied my work had a larger meaning."

"Altair, your greatest failure was brought on by knowing too much. If I choose to withhold information, it is only to ensure you do not make the same mistake a second time."

"I see." Altair's voice held a world of restrained annoyance in it, and Aden's gaze flicked from one man to the other as she listened to the conversation.

"No you do not!" Al Mualim snapped, standing and turning his back on Altair, "And it will remain this way until you have learned your lesson!"

There was a brief silence as the Master looked out the window at Masyaf, and Aden and Altair deliberately did not look at each other. Altair's cheeks had reddened from Al Mualim's rebuke and Aden did not want to see the shame and anger on the dark eyed mans face.

"Still," continued Al Mualim, turning to look back at Altair, "You have performed competently, and as such I restore a rank and return a piece of your equipment. Go now; to Acre or Jerusalem, there are men in both cities that require your attention. The Bureau Leaders can tell you more about what needs to be done." Then the old man paused and turned his head towards Aden.

"Go to Acre first." He commanded, looking briefly back to Altair and then at Aden. "Aden will go with you. He has a mission of his own to perform."

"If that is what you wish." Altair sounded furious, but managed to keep a slight veneer of respect on his words. Aden said nothing at all.

"The Bureau Leader of Acre will also tell you what needs to be done, Aden. Your assignment is of a time sensitive nature, you will understand more when you arrive in Acre."

"Yes Master."

"Go now, both of you. Start your journey tomorrow after you have had a sleep and prepared. And do not fail me."

~*~

Altair spent his day in the marketplace, replenishing his stores of healing herbs and mixtures, getting the armourer to check the condition of sword, short blade and hidden blade and getting the cobbler to check his shoes.

He did not see Aden for the whole day, for which he was grateful. He was embarrassed for the loss of control he had displayed when he attacked the younger man, and ashamed that Aden had seen Al Mualim's rebuke.

The thing was that Altair had no idea what Aden was thinking, the boy was a completely closed book. Only rarely did his thoughts show in the dark gold eyes. The rest of the time he presented a formal, cold front of complete composure. It frustrated and intrigued Altair and it annoyed him that Aden got more of a reaction out of him than any of the other Brothers, other than Abbas and Malak.

And now he had to travel with him.

Altair sighed and thanked the armourer before moving off, back up to the Tower citadel.

~*~

The sun was just rising above the hills around Masyaf when Aden made her way down to the stables. The town below the Tower was only beginning to wake up, and few people were around to see the young assassin as she walked through the familiar streets. She greeted those that were around, bakers and merchants as well as the guards loyal to the Assassins.

Entering the stable corral she greeted Mahir, who worked for the Assassins as a horse-master. The man had been at Masyaf for as long as Aden could remember, with his leathery sun browned skin, beetle black eyes and scruffy dark brown hair.

"How is Ghada?" the young assassin asked, running her hand gently over the mare's neck and down her front right leg.

"Not good enough for what you've got in mind, Aden." Mahir rumbled good naturedly, coming up on the mares other side and brushing her mane with his fingers. "You are off on another mission I am assuming."

"You assume correctly Mahir." Aden said, smiling despite herself. Mahir was her one true friend at Masyaf, and one of the four people that knew her true sex. "Altair and I are going to Acre, to assassinate two very troublesome people."

"Acre," Mahir frowned slightly, "Definitely too far for Ghada, and you are likely to be riding fast away from Acre once you have completed your task." Aden nodded, the crusaders were not a relaxed lot, and they were still heavy handed on control in the town. Any disturbance or unusual behaviour would be dealt with quickly and harshly.

"Kadir too needs a rest, so Altair won't be able to use him either. We do however still have the fine horse you stole and a lovely chestnut stallion one of your other brothers ah 'found' on his last mission."

After checking out the chestnut stallion Aden decided on the grey mare, simply because while the chestnut was flashy, the mare was built for speed. Then she settled down in a haystack with Mahir for company and waited for Altair.

~*~

She didn't have to wait long.

"Why is it I always meet you in a haystack Brother?" was Altair's drawled comment when he entered the corral and walked over to Aden. The young assassin looked up at the man and gave him a pleasant smile.

"Because I am always waiting for you, brother?" Altair scowled and Mahir coughed before excusing himself. Aden too stood, brushing stray straw strands off his white robes. Altair's eyes lingered on the stump of Aden's left ring finger that all the Assassins had removed for the use of the hidden blade. Aden's fingers were long and delicate and the stump was even more noticeable for the grace of the others. "Shall we?" Aden said, looking up at him with a small smile on his lips.

"We shall." Altair agreed, disturbed by the sight of such slender fingers on the hand of a young man. But the thought was driven out of his mind by them both mounting up and setting off into the Kingdom.


	7. Chapter 7: Live Bait

**Follow the Creed**

_First Time Reviewer Shout Out: Aelirenn, hope you continue to enjoy the story and anjoy Aden too!_

_Returning Reviewer Shout Out: mw, its amazing the effect a single review can do, it can just return your focus to something that you had put aside for a while like this story. So yes, reviewing will help me continue writing._

_Disclaimer: same as on Chapter 1. Still dont own it._

**Chapter 7 - Live Bait**

"Ah Altair, a little bird told me you would be paying a visit."

Altair stood alone in the Acre Bureau, facing Quasim, the leader of the Acre section of Assassins. The man had had his calf muscle severed by a guard's blade, and the healers had been unable to save it. Unfit for active duty he had been assigned this post in the city of Acre. By his rich robes, he appeared to be prospering, unlike the other citizens of this deeply unhappy city.

"Al Mualim has ordered the execution of Garnier de Naplouse, and so here I am. What can you tell me about him?"

Altair was in no mood for a dance of words with an invalid ex-assassin. They were all usually twisted inside, deeply bitter with their lot in life. Longing to be out leaping across rooftops, doing their craft with the rest of the brotherhood. Instead they were trapped in the Bureau, becoming more and more adminstratively bound to their papers and quils.

"He is the Grand Master of the Knights Hospitalier and so surely keeps his quarters in their district. Beyond that I cannot say." Cannot or will not, Altair thought sulkily. "I suggest you search the city, see what you can learn from the people."

"Tell me where they gather and I will see what I can find." More apprentice work, he thought bitterly, no one would have done this to him before the fiasco of Robert de Sable. Still there was nothing to be done but to endure it and regain his rightful place among his Brothers.

"The public gardens north of here, or whats left of them, are as good a place as any to begin." Quasim murmured, twirling a quil in his fingers. "There's an abandoned market northwest as well that merits watching as well, and the Maria of Johosephat's church to the west remains a popular meeting place. These three locations, should be sufficient for your needs."

"I appreciate the information Quasim, it will be put to good use."

"See that it is." Altair turned to go but the Bureau leader coughed once politely. "One more thing Altair. Where is Aden? The little bird said that he was coming along with you, he has his own mission to complete."

Altair paused and turned back to the other man, dark eyes unfathomable. "Aden…will be here shortly." Or so he hoped.

~*~

Aden, pressed as she was against a building wall, was no where near being at the Acre Assassin's Bureau. And she could have happily strangled Altair and Al Mualim too for his part in this.

The journey from Masyaf had been a reasonably paced one. Acre wasn't the closest city to the Assassins citadel, but there was a good sized village halfway between. It was a good place to stop for the evening, the local inn being reasonably clean, as well as it being relatively easy to purchase a room, or in this case two rooms, for the night.

Altair and Aden hadn't talked for most of the day, apart from the occasional conversation about the midday meal or sightings of guards. When guards had been sighted, they had drawn together for mutual protection. A white robed man alone could be an Assassin, but two was much more likely to be a pair of scholars travelling together. And with their heads bent they played right into that misconception.

They agreed to meet for supper in the small, comfortable common room. A cordial meal followed where they had relaxed infestisimally and talked more openly about their lives before and since joining the Brotherhood. Altair was a complex and talented individual Aden accepted after the meal, not the brute she had thought he was. And Altair was forced to accept that Aden was not the self-righteous little prick that he had taken him for. He was jiust wary, self contained, protected, they both decided.

It had made for a much more comfortable trip the next day. They had chatted comfortably until they reached the green hills up towards Acre.

It had been beautiful once, Aden thought numbly, looking at the side of the road where bodies were heaped in burning piles. Many were just civilians, caught in the melee as the Crusaders stormed the city. They paused at the crest of the hill and gazed out at the space in front of the gate.

Pickets, wooden barriers, signs of combat were everywhere. And everywhere were the bodies. Also guards, swarming all around. Getting in would be an utter nightmare.

"Any ideas?" she quipped, nudging the grey mare whom she had named Falak, meaning star, forward down the road. Altair's dark eyes had been unfathomable, flicking left and right.

"Yes." He finally answered when they were just a little ways away from the first squad of guards. "Live bait."

"What…?" she began, but Altair had kicked his horse into a canter, dissappearing behind a palisade in a matter of moments. The guards turned, hearing the clatter of hooves and saw Aden sitting frozen on Falak, in white robes and a hood over her eyes.

"ASSASSIN!!!"

~*~

So here she was, high on Acre's wall, still outside the gate, climbing along a scaffolding, hoping that the guards would not look up and spot the white robed figure so high and vulnerable.

Better not to think about it.

The slender Assassin leapt from the scaffold nearest to the gate and onto a cross spanning beam, inside the gate tunnel, over the guards heads. Swinging and leaping in turns she made it across and onto the flat topped roof of a nearby house. She crouched there wincing, her right thigh was red with blood from the slash of a guards sword. Her own sword work hadn't been good enough, if it hadn't been for Falak panicking and bolting, knocking guards down, she would probably have been dead. As it was, she was alive, and inside the city.

Safe inside.

With a feral smile the topaz eyed assassin started to make her slow way through Acre, killing 10 rooftop guards before making it to the Bureau. These foreign guards were much twitchier than their native counterparts. It made for a less easy route certainly.

Dropping into the Bureau she was greeted by a seated Altair, reclined against some pillows.

There was a soft snick as a pair of hidden blades were activated.

"Live bait." Aden hissed, prowling forward and shoving her bloodied leg in his direction. Many curses followed, by which time Quasim came out of his workroom.

"Assassin Aden, welcome to Acre." He said dryly when she drew breath. She glanced at him and sighed.

"Thank you, honourable Bureau Leader." A chuckle rose from Altair, still lazily sprawled over the patterned cushions. "I'll deal with you later." She growled at him, as she followed Quasim into the cooler workroom.

He watched the boy go and smiled a little in satisfaction. Now they were even. Maybe he could even accept the boy as a friend now. It was possible. He caught his eye wandering over the slender white figure as Aden disappeared into the workroom and frowned. Disturbing, maybe it was better to stay away from the lad.

~*~

Aden moved forward to the bench and accepted a small sheaf of papers from Quasim. Her dark topaz eyes scanned the scrawled words, noting things, quickly and concisely.

"Lord Jaques De'Pleur of Aquitane." Quasim, confirmed what her eyes were reading. "One of the main beneficiaries of the war. He is a collector in his free time, and his agents have sent him many relics of priceless value from this city and others in our Kingdom. He is here in Acre, scanning through items from the holy places. He needs to be eliminated."

"You do know this cannot be my primary concern." Aden murmured, reading through the given notes. "My main mission is sitting outside on his arse on the Bureau's cushions. His adherance to the Creed is my first objective."

"This I understand." Quasim said. "But Altair would grow suspicious if you did not appear to complete a mission during your stays here. This shouldn't be too difficult a challenge for an Assassin of your skill. Everything you need are in these notes. When you have some time off all you needs do is go to the Keep and slit his stealing throat. Easy."

She nodded, folding the sheaf of parchment and tucking it into her belt pouch. "I shall study them now," she assured the Bureau Leader, "And then burn them."

* * *


	8. Chapter 8: Assassins on the Loose

**Follow the Creed**

_Authors Notes: First off I would like to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter, thanks guys. Getting responses and feedback really fuels my passion for a story. And this one is going to be epic. As I have said before I am aiming for it to reach 100chapters. Although if it is still going strong at that time then I may just continue on. With that in mind I know some of you may have only played the game once or twice and therefore probably dont have my rather passionate approach to things pertaining to this era of time. Therefore I have created a website for this Story. It has Character stuff, a picture of Aden, history details and so on. _

_As it is a site for you the reader as well as me the writer I would love your feedback on things you would like to see on the site. The link is on my Profile and also here www . follow-the-creed . webs . com_

_Also _DetectiveTective _I did make up Quasim's name. There is no mention of it in the game and I think its unfair to have a nameless Bureau Leader._

_Thank you to everyone who reviewed._

_~*~_

**Chapter 8 - Assassins on the Loose**

They had been a week in Acre and it had been one of the most enjoyable weeks that Altair could remember.

Aden had proven to be an able and rather intriguing companion. He had not seen much of the boy around during the daylight hours while they both conducted their separate Investigations, but occasionally he had caught a glimpse of white at the periphery of his vision.

However whenever he turned to scan the streets and rooftops the flicker of white had vanished. Was he paranoid, or was he really noticing another Assassin that much?

The night time however proved to be the truly enjoyable times.

When the city was locked down under the strict curfew, when Quasim had gone home and the City Assassins slunk their own ways back to their dwellings, pulling the trellis grate over the roof entrance and locking he and Aden in the Bureau for the evening, he and the other assassin had gotten to know each other.

Yes the evenings had surprised him. He had thought Aden annoying, arrogant and infuriating. And he was right, but it no longer seemed to annoy him so much.

Why? Why had it ceased to irritate him?

He did not truly know, but he did know that this time of idyll was drawing to a close. Today or tomorrow he and Aden would make their Strikes, and then they would have to return to Masyaf, and to their separate lives.

His mission was to regain his place as a Master Assassin.

He did not know what Aden's current life mission was but he didn't ask. With Assassins it is sometimes better not to know.

~*~

"Ah if it isn't Altair."

Altair was standing in the remains of one of the cities gardens, on one of the tiered courtyards. Aden, hidden from sight, was up on the roof, watching and listening as her quarry spoke to one of the City Assassins.

His name was Umayr, she remembered, he had been training to be an Assassin at the same time as Altair but a few classes earlier than her. Other than that she could remember very little about him. But he did not sound friendly, indeed if anything he sounded rather smug that Altair was approaching him for information.

"Remember me?" Umayr continued; face twisting with all the inner hatred he felt towards the man standing before him. "No? I learned my craft at the same time as you. Still no memories of me? Doesn't matter. Al Mualim has charged me with a mission that I am honoured to perform. I must test you. What a pleasure."

Test him? Altair thought with a bite of anger. All of this that he had to endure was a test, an elaborate test to test his compliance with the Creed, hidden under the veneer of Redemption.

"I have hidden flags in this area. Find them and return to me, be quick. It is such a shame that the old man insisted that I must help you if you should succeed." Umayr waved his hand to indicate that he was done and that the time was beginning to run out.

Altair took off, feeling increasingly foolish as he deftly climbed, clambered and raced around the ruined garden. Flag after flag he claimed, leaping from wall to balcony to rooftop and then down onto the once beautiful fountains. Down he came, and landed cat like in front of his examiner, dumping the flags at his feet.

Disappointment was clear in the other Assassins face as he sighed. "Back? I'm impressed, not enough to change my mind about you, but since Al Mualim commands, here is what I know about your next target. Garnier hides in the Hospetalier fortress. Getting into the Fortress will require cunning...That's all I have for you."

And with that Umayr turned and left, leaving behind an annoyed Assassin and a pile of flags.

~*~

Altair was heading back to the Bureau, Aden thought, so now would be the perfect time to strike her target and finish her unresolved contract.

Lightly the slender Assassin got to her feet and took off across the rooftops. Other Assassins preferred to blend with the crowds, hidden in view, but Aden preferred to race dangerously across wooden supports and warm clay roofs. There was less chance of a swordfight up here on the rooftops.

Crouching she moved forward, stopping when she spotted exactly what she wanted.

She was at the back of Jacques De'Pleur's rented house. A house which had a rather useful back entrance, a barrel ramp into the cellar. Silently the young Assassin dropped down into the back alley way and moved over to the wooden doors leading down into the cellar.

Smiling quietly she drew out a folded roll of fabric, in which was her lock-pick collection. There was no telling when it would be necessary to enter without the permission of he to whom the house belonged.

~*~

Aden had been wrong.

Altair had gone to the Bureau but it was not to rest and wait for the next day.

As Quasim handed over the white feather to be stained with the blood of Altair's victim, he thought of the other feather he had handed out. Aden's white feather had not been returned to him yet, and it was dangerous for the Assassins to both be operating at the same time. But Aden had not struck in days, it was unlikely, in his mind, that she would choose today of all days to do so.

~*~

The soft clinking of cutlery caused Aden to pause where she was, hidden by the corridor leading from the cellar door.

"Come Francois." A heavily accented voice spoke in fluent French, and Aden found herself smiling, pleased that she, unlike most of the males in her class, had paid attention to the basics of the Infidel languages. "Tell me of what treasures you found today. I am keen to return to Aquitaine and show off my newest prizes."

"Yes my Lord." A man replied in a grovelling tone, "Today I paid a visit to the Hospetalier Fortress, and spoke to the Doctor there. When he heard who I was representing he was most eager to help. He had a number of exotic and rare pieces, acquired from the other cities of the Kingdom, most notably Damascus and Jerusalem. They include this beautiful diamond pendant, this painting and this gorgeous rug, woven from the most delicate of gold and silver threads and the finest silk. I knew they would all please you Lordship."

"They do indeed Francois. What about antiquities?"

The servant continued to parade goods in front of his master, items of such wealth and significance that it made the young assassin, crouched in her hiding place, clench her fists in fury.

She had no love of these Crusaders and their "Kingdom of Jerusalem", and the stealing of priceless articles from the peoples of the actual Kingdom made her blood boil. But it was not her place to do anything about it. To wait was her task and she did.

The Lord went upstairs to his bedchamber and Aden silently followed, keeping out of sight. Once the maidservant tending to his needs had returned downstairs, Aden moved silently to the door, one of two, she noticed into the main bedroom.

Lord Jacques De'Pleur did not turn as the door opened, and it was his fatal mistake. He assumed it was a servant returning with his wine. He assumed incorrectly.

Her Hidden blade sank deep into her quarry's throat just as the second door opened, revealing one of De'Pleur's Guards and the chamberlain of his house, along with a serving maid carrying the wine glass.

Next instant the world faded away as she lowered De'Pleur to the ground. "It is over now." She said, her voice the voice of the woman she could have been had she not been Aden, sexless assassin. "Your cares are gone, it is time now to be at peace..."

~*~

Altair had made his way up to the fortress gates and met up with a group of scholars. He had asked them to meet him here, to aid him in his infiltration of the stronghold.

If he were caught, he didn't want to implicate the scholars so he did not tell them who his target was. Nor did he convey to them his plans of escape. The scholars would not be harmed and he would be out of that forsaken building as soon as the Hospetalier Doctor was dead.

Silently he and his group of scholars moved towards the tall stone walls.

~*~

The city watch bells began to shrill out an alarm.

Assassin on the loose.

~*~

Aden blinked, returning to her body as a cry went up from the guard and a shriek came from the maid. She dodged then, narrowly missing losing her life on the tip of the man's sword as she leapt out the window, climbing quickly up onto the roof and racing away, hearing the shouts behind her.

Left, left, right, down she went, dropping catlike to the muddy street below and ignoring the cries that went up as she knocked over some women carrying jars.

"Watch where you're going!"

"What is that man doing?"

"Where is he off to in such a hurry?"

"Assassin!"

Hearing the last roar from the guard, Aden sped up her dash and ducked down a small alley way, zigzagging to break the line of sight from her pursuers. Glancing back she saw no one and took the opportunity to haul herself up onto a wooden balcony.

There she lay, holding her breath as her chest heaved, listening as the guards raced by.

She was safe, for the moment.

~*~

Altair in his group of scholars froze, as did the other white robed figures around him. But no one was shouting, no one was pointing at him. The guards were flocking to the doors though; there was no way he was getting in the Hospetalier Fortress today.

As he and his cover moved away from the big building Altair thought hard.

What had happened? What had set the alarms off? Why were the guards not chasing him if an Alert had been called?

"An assassination in the Rich District," someone cried as they ran past, "A nobleman slain! They're chasing the one responsible!"

Altair's head snapped towards the rich District of Acre, and his stomach lurched.

_Aden._

~*~

* * *


	9. Chapter 9: Compromised

**Follow the Creed**

_Authors note: Thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter, it does encourage me. And thanks to those who commented on the webpage too. www. follow-the-creed .webs .com_

_Perhaps the most important aspect of this chapter is the beginning of the attraction between Altair and Aden. Of course, Altair does not yet know that Aden is a woman, which adds an interesting spin on the whole romance. _

_Thanks must also go to Ubisoft for the release of the Assassins Creed II trailer this week. It gave me just another intrigued push to continue writing this chapter._

_LF_

**~*~**

**Chapter 9 - Compromised**

Night fell before Aden made her way back to the Bureau. Thankfully for her the trellis that covered the rooftop entrance to the Assassins headquarters was unlocked and so she pushed it open a little way. Wincing she lowered her slender form over the edge of the roof and pulled it back over before dropping quietly to the edge of the fountain below her.

Glancing around she saw that there was still candlelight in the main workroom of the sanctuary, which meant that Quasim was still awake. Probably awaiting her report, Aden thought tiredly, walking slowly to the door and pushing it open.

Two heads turned to her as the wooden door creaked.

Quasim moved forward, staying on his side of the counter and beckoned her in. "Aden, praise Allah. We feared your capture. Come in, report quickly and then we can all seek our beds." The young woman moved into the candlelight and sank down on one of the plain wood seats that were drawn up to the counter.

"Jacques De'Pleur is dead." She assured them tiredly, "The Brotherhood is not compromised, and none followed me. Those that tried died." Altair, sitting silently nearby, ran his eyes subtly over the assassins form, assessing any possible damage. It was made difficult due to the left hand side being almost entirely red stained. Presumably with blood.

Aden's? Or De'Pleur's?

The young assassin reached into her pouch and produced the bloody feather which she handed to the Bureau Leader.

"You have done well Aden." Quasim said, tucking the feather into the slot prepared in the book of deaths. "And now, I think it is time that we all went to bed. My wife will be anxious from all the City Alert uproar."

The pair stood, Aden a little slower than Altair and with a small bow of respect the pair headed out into the courtyard and the cushions. It was too late to grab a bed inside the Bureau, waking up tired assassins was never a good idea. So it was with a common silent consensus that the pair sank down onto the soft cushions.

Only for Aden to sit up a second later with a wince, unbuckling her throwing knives, scabbard, belt and other weaponry and setting them comfortably down nearby. Altair watched from his relaxed and reclined position with a pursed mouth.

"Are you injured Aden?" were his first words of the night to her, spoken gruffly and tersely but still asked. He refused to show the boy he was concerned, that he had been worried all afternoon and almost frantic when night fell and he had not returned. The price of capture was torture, and the price of failure was death.

He had not wanted either for this fractious, demanding, insufferable youth.

Aden turned, ready to give him the instinctive response of 'I'm fine', but reconsidered. "Yeah, had to have a sword fought disagreement with a Templar Knight." She winced as she sat, "I won the argument, but he got in a few good blows."

The man across from her narrowed his eyes and his hands immediately dropped to a pouch at his waist. "Let me see," he started, moving forward, his other hand reaching for the outer layer of her robe.

"No." She said, a little too hastily, scrambling back. "I'm fine Altair."

The former master Assassin paused, surprised by the rush of hurt that the boys reaction provoked in him. He had thought...thought that maybe the lad had become a friend. But clearly he had been mistaken, Aden feared him, or didn't want him near him.

Either way, it hurt.

"Such maidens modesty Aden." He said voice cold as night time in the desert. "Here." And he chucked the herb pouch at the boy before standing. "I'm going to use the privy. Do it yourself."

~*~

Shedding off a few more layers Aden wrapped a silken throw around her body and slipped out of her under tunic.

She was refusing to think about how Altair's mouth had tightened, how cold his voice had been. She had hurt him, she hadn't even known it was possible for her to hurt him, but she had.

However the fact remained, she had had no choice.

The slash from the guard's blade went all the way up to the curve of one of her breasts, and while hidden under leather armour and robes they weren't noticeable...

But with the armour removed, and her tunic gone...there was no way she could hide her femininity. It was just not possible.

Quietly she tended to her wound, hurrying through the bandage and pulling her robe back over her head just as Altair returned. The older assassin watched her for a moment, surprised by how long Aden's hair was, now unhidden by the white cowled hood.

The female assassin turned and surprise was evident on her face as she looked back at him.

Silently Altair crossed the courtyard and curled up on his pillows.

Forgiveness would not come to Aden that night.

~*~

Altair didn't sleep. His mind was haunted by the boyish, delicate fine boned face of Aden. A face he had not seen in its entirety before tonight. A face that was surprisingly feminine.

What was perhaps more shocking was the flood of warmth through his veins when he thought of the boy. The stirring.

The arousal.

The assassin sat up, rubbing his eyes furiously. It was not possible; he loved the softness of women, the warmth of them, the scent of their hair, the fullness of lip.

Women like Adha, with tempestuous dark, dark eyes. Women who deferred to him, who looked at him to protect and defend. Not a wilful, stubborn, arrogant pup of a lad with dark topaz eyes and a face that was neither handsome nor cute.

He looked over at the slender form curled up on the cushions an arm splayed out comfortably in sleep. The left hand rested lightly, palm up, fingers curled and the ring finger conspicuous in his absence. Slim fingers, delicate fingers, with sword calluses across the palm. That hand had wielded death today, the death of De'Pleur, and guards of the Crusade and a Templar if Aden's words earlier were to be believed.

Altair rolled over, away from the still body of the boy nearby. It was the intimacy of this mission, both of them almost always together, the fact that he had not spent a night with a woman in, oh far too long. It was because of all these factors, not because he wanted to kiss that stubborn, infuriating mouth.

It would be gone as soon as they returned to Masyaf. He would make sure of it.

~*~

"No! Help me! Please you must help me!"

Aden's head snapped around from where she was crouched overlooking the courtyard below. Her gaze had been tracking Altair, moving amongst the crowd, a white figure, unnoticed. Then the cry broke out and a circle formed as a guard snagged the arm of the running patient, bringing him around and the other began hitting him with dull thumps of his firsts.

It was two days after Aden's assassination of De'Pleur and Altair had decided to complete his own assassination contract. The furour over the Nobleman's death had somewhat abated and Altair was ready, ready to finish this.

"Enough my child." An accented voice cried as the door to the inner fortress opened and Garnier emerged, "I asked you to retrieve the patient, not kill him." He turned to the man struggling in between the two guards and Aden could see the dull red stains of old blood spilt down his front, over the apron. "There, there, everything will be all right."

"No!" the man cried again, terror in his voice,

"Take my hand."

"No, don't touch me. Not again."

"Cast out this fear." Garnier coaxed, "Else I cannot help you."

"Help me?" the man, spluttered incredulously "Like you helped the others? You took their souls. I saw! I saw! But not mine, you'll not have mine!"

Crack!

Aden gasped as Garnier stepped forward and viciously backhanded the pinned man. "Take a hold of yourself!" the doctor barked, "Do you think this gives me pleasure? Do you think I want to hurt you? But you leave me no choice!"

With a great heave the prisoner managed to free one of his arms and tried to lunge to safety, towards the crowd, yelling "Every kind word, matched by the back of his hand! All lies and deception!" The guards had their hold on him again and dragged him back before Garnier, "He...will not be content...until all bow before him." He panted, still struggling.

"You should not have done that." The doctor said softly but with malevolence in his voice that made even the two Assassins shiver. "Return him to his quarters; I will tend to him once I've finished with the others."

"You can't keep me here! I'll escape again!" The man yelled defiantly struggling to find his feet.

"No," Garnier said, turning back to the man from where he had begun walking back into the fortress Keep. "You won't. Break his legs," he ordered the guards, "Both of them."

A horrible crunching sound came and then an agonised scream from the patient as one of the guards stamped on his knee, shattering the bones like egg shells. Aden covered her mouth in horror and even Altair shuddered as a second snap came along with another scream of anguish. Healing bones was no easy thing; the man would probably never walk again. Garnier had condemned him to a life as a beggar if he ever left the Fortress again, a hopeless, helpless cripple crawling the streets.

"I'm so sorry my child." Garnier crooned following the guards dragging the sobbing prisoner away. He turned back once and his gaze raked the crowd. "Have you people nothing better to do?"

The doors closed behind the doctor and the crowd dispersed, while Aden swung down from her beam and dropped lightly to the ground, landing on some old blankets. Altair was winding his way into the Fortress and Aden followed, keeping a safe distance.

The doctor was moving around, tending to his patients and Altair moved up behind him, bent like an old scholar. In a flash the master assassin pounced, his blade sinking into the man's throat just as one of the jabbering men, wandering the halls shoved Aden.

Chaos broke loose, the guards flocking towards Altair, screaming out the word 'Assassin' The bell at the top of the tower, used to signal to the city an emergency, began to jangle. Aden flung herself out of the way of a sword trying to cleave her in two and took off down the hallway, shouts following her.

Into the courtyard and then with a leap she clung to a strut in the wall, hauling herself up bit by bit, climbing as fast as she could. A whistle and a thunk came and Aden screamed as an arrow pierced her shoulder. She hung there by one hand, burning searing pain filling her mind.

She had to climb.

Another arrow whistled past her and she continued her climb, sobbing with pain as she reached the top and hauled herself over. Out of the arrows reach, but not out of danger.

Quickly as she could she ran past the bodies of the guards she had slaughtered earlier and clambered down the side of the wall, running lightly over rooftops.

With a bound she hit the hard packed dirt of the road and started to jog. The Bureau wasn't far, she could make it there, Altair would make it there.

Suddenly a hand reached out of the shadows and grabbed her, yanking her into an alleyway a hand covering her mouth, knife cutting into her throat.

Altair glared down at her with pure fury in his eyes.


	10. Chapter 10: An Agreeable Outcome

**Follow the Creed**

_Authors Note: Thank you all for your comments on Chapter 9!_

_However the reviewer I must make a point of addressing is Yumi Sakura. I thank you for your compliments its nice to have people read your work. As for your Bad One comment, here is my response. Aden is a woman but lets face it, the gear that Assassins get up in arent exactlly form fitting. And they wear armour underneath those white robes I'm sure. Under those kinds of layers her femininity would be obscured. Even though Aden is 23 years old Altair always thinks of her as a 'boy' or a 'lad'. When he finds out (eventually) that she is a woman, he will put the facts together and grasp it a bit better :D Hope that cleared it up a bit. _

_We have reached Chapter 10. 10% through this story. Scary hey?_

_Enjoy!_

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**Chapter 10 - An Agreeable Outcome**

"You little fool." Altair seethed, shaking the young man he held once more for emphasis. He couldn't convey to the boy the absolute feeling of dread that had filled him when he had seen him hanging from the wall, arrow in his shoulder, through shaking, but he knew that any other more stringent forms of punishment for scaring him would have to wait. Neither of them was out of danger and the boy was pale with pain and blood loss.

Feckless little...

Shouts rang around them as the Hospetalier Guards appeared over the roofs and the two Assassins took off, feet flying as they sprinted down the dusty street, people throwing themselves out of their way, especially when they noticed the sword glittering in Altair's fist. Aden drew her short sword as she ran, breath sobbing in her chest as she raced after the faster Assassin.

The pair hurtled around a corner and came to a fork in the roads. Without a word said Aden dashed one way while Altair pelted down the other path. The guards milled, confused as to which Assassin to chase. In the end they divided, the greater half following Altair while the rest pursued Aden.

~*~

Aden was the first to make it back to the Bureau, bloody and weary and leaving a trail of corpses behind her. Most of the guards who had followed her through the alley's of the conquered city were dead, slain by throwing knives or, later in the chase when they wouldn't give up, her hidden blade.

She dropped down from the roof, landing on the edge of the fountain, and was met by an anxious but angry Quasim.

The lecture he gave her, after she had told him what happened and while she crouched there on the fountain rim was long and impressive, about how she had failed in her duties to just observe and witness Altair rather than getting caught up in the action. Her actions were ones of a foolish child, he informed her, and then in a softer voice sent her in to get her wounds tended to.

Quietly the young woman slipped into street clothes and left the building searching for the apothecary she always visited when in Acre, an old crone, known for her discretion and skill.

As she left she heard rumours of the great manhunt happening across the city and sent a prayer to the heavens for Altair's safe return.

~*~

Altair ran at a flat out sprint, leaping from rails and balconies to avoid arrows that whizzed past his head. He knew that guards were closing in on him from all directions, summoned by the City Alert. He had to escape, lose the ring of pursuers and find somewhere to hunker down until the Search moved on.

His brain was working overtime. He couldn't fight them all, the odds were too bad, he had to lose them. So with a sudden prop and shift in direction he bolted down a side alley, weaving through the crowd and ducking down into an even narrower pathway between two houses.

Up a wall he climbed, discovering to his delight a group of Scholars all sitting having a theological discussion on a wide balcony. One of them, an old friend of the Brotherhood, shifted, and Altair moved swiftly to sit beside him.

Just in the nick of time.

Guards came pouring up a nearby ladder, plainly still searching. "He has to be around here somewhere." They snarled to one another, not even glancing into the midst of the insignificant Scholars. Altair stayed perfectly still, his intelligent dark eyes following their movements in minute detail.

Gradually the guards moved off and the Assassin felt comfortable in slipping away unseen. Thanking the Scholars he trotted off and dropped lightly back down into his alley.

Swiftly he ran, leaving behind the infuriated guards and the latest in a long line of assassinations.

~*~

"Are you alright?" the rough, boyish voice asked, "Are you injured Altair?"

The former master Assassin looked up from his deep consideration of one of the ornate cushions resting against the wall of the Bureau. Standing at the door into the inner sanctum, hand lightly resting on the wood was Aden. The younger Assassin watched the man carefully, dark topaz eyes wary remembering his rage when he had caught up with her near the Fortress.

Altair stood slowly, moving closer to the smaller figure, his dark brown gaze raking the others form carefully. "Minor injuries." He responded gruffly, "You? How is that arrow wound?"

"Minor." She responded with equal cordiality, "The apothecary said that it shouldn't take too long to heal."

"Excellent."

Without warning Altair lunged and his fist curled into the white fabric of Aden's robed tunic. He could feel the thick leather armour breastplate below his grip as he whirled them to the side and slammed the young man up against the smooth gold bricks of the Bureau courtyard wall. Aden groaned, struggling groggily where the bigger, taller and stronger man held her pinned.

The breastplate bound her breasts flat, hid her shape, but if he pressed close, he would be able to feel that there was no essential parts downstairs, she thought, a sick feeling uncoiling in her belly.

Altair's handsome face pressed close to hers, and she could feel his enraged breaths gusting across her neck under the cowl of her hood. "Good, now that I know," he growled, voice strained with restraint, "that you are not going to collapse on me due to a life threatening injury, I can move on to more important things."

Viciously he shoved her harder against the stone, "Why did you follow me Aden?" his hand came up, grabbing her pointed chin. "Why were you there in the Fortress when I killed Garnier."

"I was curious." She gasped out, trying to jerk her head out of his grip, "I wanted to see, see how you..."

"How I killed?" Altair growled, not letting her off so easily. "Wanted some pointers did you, you foolish little Assassin? Don't you know how dangerous it was? For both you and me?"

He had let himself be distracted from the actions of her right hand and suddenly he found his grip on the slighter built assassin broken. Her weight slammed into him and they both fell back, landing on the cushions. Then Aden was straddling him, her knees and lower thighs pinning his legs, carefully keeping the apex of her legs as far away from him as possible.

"I came to view." She hissed at him, her hood fallen down, revealing her delicate boyish face framed by the shaggy dark hair. "I am telling you the truth."

"Little..." Altair spat, hand grabbing the dark silky strands and heaving upwards with his hips, sending the young man rolling away. However for a brief moment there was contact and a part of Altair wondered at the feeling. It wasn't right but the moment was over so fast and he was so concentrated on his actions that the feeling was ignored and soon forgotten.

Aden rolled away, scrambling to her hands and knees, ready and braced for when the man lunged again. Down the pair went, punches hitting flesh, no other sound save for the harsh breathing of both assassins to be heard in the courtyard.

They knew they were both unarmed, not a weapon on either person and so the gloves came off and they flew at each other with a vicious passion, wanting to hurt the other as much as they could before they collapsed to the cushions once more. Altair blocked off Aden's airway with his arm and then hissed as her boot crashed into his ribs, knocking him back a pace.

They grappled some more, growing more and more weak as the days tolls wore on them. Finally Aden gasped out, "Enough." And they lay there panting.

The older assassin looked over at the boy, sprawled out beside him; hair mussed over his forehead, dark with wet sweat, a trickle of bright blood running down from a split lip to the stubborn chin. His jaw was lightly bruised and there was a small abrasion at his temple and Altair felt something powerful and frightening rush through him at the sight of the lad so battle weary and yet still defiant.

He sat up and leaned over the other man, seeing Aden's topaz eyes widen and his hand come up to prevent another expected attack. "You," he rumbled softly, "Are a feckless, stubborn, foolish little rat child." And before the boy could respond he shut him up by crushing their lips together.

Hot copper taste, the taste of the blood on Aden's lip was the first thing he noticed, followed by the warm rich flavour of Aden. The boy tasted like spices, comforting and yet exciting. He expected blows, fury to erupt from the lad, but nothing happened, in fact, if anything, the slighter man began to kiss him back, letting him take control, which he did.

His hand fisted in the dark hair, tugging the boys head back, opening him up even more, making it clear who was dominant, and to his pleasure the boy began to fight once more, reasserting his place.

They would have kept on, locked as they were in their own private battle, but the city bell struck the curfew toll and Altair broke away, staring down into Aden's face with almost comical horror.

What had he done?

~*~

"Have you news for me Altair?" Al Mualim asked two days later back at Masyaf.

A white robed aide handed over a scroll to the leader of the Hashashin, and bowing, left to shuffle back down to the great library attached to the complex of buildings that the assassins habited, leaving the two men alone.

"Garnier De'Naplouse is dead." Altair said, walking forward a few steps to stand before the great oak desk.

"Excellent!" Was the immediate response, "We could not have hoped for a more agreeable outcome."

"And yet..." Altair hesitated. He had thought about this a long time, had even spoken to Quasim about it when he had handed over the bloodstained feather. The old man had not been receptive to the conversation, and he had not dared discuss it with Aden.

That boy would no longer be a part of his life, he would make it so.

"What is it?" Al Mualim's voice was sharp as he turned back to the assassin from where he had been moving over to his working cabinet.

"The Doctor insisted his work was noble." Altair said, looking at Al Mualim closely, "And looking back those who were supposedly his captives seemed grateful to the man. Not all of them, but enough to make me wonder. How did he turn enemy into friend?"

"Leaders will always find ways to make others obey them." The black robed master said, moving back behind his desk. "That is what makes them leaders. When words fail they turn to coin, when that won't do they resort to baser things; bribes, threats and other types of trickery. The master turned back to his prodigy with a solemn look on his aged face, "There are plants Altair. Herbs from distant lands that can cause a man to take leave of his senses. So great are the pleasures it brings men may even become enslaved by it."

"You think these men were drugged then?" The master assassin asked sceptically, a small frown furrowing between his brows, "Poisoned?"

"Yes," Al Mualim answered definitely, "if it truly was how you describe it."

"Herbs," the assassin mused, "It seems a strange method of control."

"Our enemies have accused me of the same."

"The promise of paradise." Altair said with a soft sigh.

"They think there is a garden, overflowing with women and pleasure, that I drug you, like Garnier did his men, and tempt you with these rewards."

"They do not know the truth of it."

"Which is how it must be."

"But if they knew the truth? That all we seek is peace?"

"Then they would not fear us, and we would have no hold over them." The older man moved to look out of the large glass window. "Go, it is time that you continued with your work. Another rank is restored to you, as is a piece of your equipment. We will speak again when the next has fallen. Send in Aden when you leave."

Altair left, holding the belt with his throwing knives and nodded to the boy waiting at the doorway.

He did not stop. He did not speak.

~*~


	11. Chapter 11: Clipped Wings

**Follow The Creed**

**_So in the time since I last updated this story, Assassins Creed 2 came out! Woo exciting! As did Bloodlines, although I didn't get to play that cause I am a PC gal at heart. Also Star Trek stole my fandom muse and Dragon Age took over my computer. WOOHAA DRAGON AGE FTW!_**

**_Anyway it meant I neglected this story, for which I am terribly terribly sorry. Trust me guys its back in the works, and Aden is quietly fuming over the whole...Adha and Maria thing :D ee drama._**

**_I would also like to thank the fans who reviewed and encouraged me to get back to this story. I can't tell you how awseome it is to open up my inbox and find a review telling me they would love to read more. It makes me wanna go to my computer and start writing at once. So this is for you the loyal reviewers who stuck through almost an entire year of silence._**

* * *

**Chapter 11: Clipped Wings**

"Quasim has sent me a missive Aden." Al Mualim's voice was stern, but Aden, standing before him, refused to squirm. "A letter detailing the time both you and Altair spent in Acre, including your observance of his task."

"Yes master." She did not look at him, rather at the glassed window behind him, the sky beyond.

"He has already lectured you on your impetuousness, and he notes that your mistake, although foolish, was not made out of negligence or pride. Therefore although you will be punished, it will not be severe."

That was a relief, she had hoped for Al Mualim to understand, during the long ride back home from Acre, a stony and stubbornly silent Altair by her side. It brought her mind back to its favourite topic of the moment...the kiss.

Why had Altair kissed her? Did he know, or suspect about her true sex? Or did he prefer pretty boys? Aden did not know but she did suspect that Altair didn't know why he had kissed her either. Judging by the silence and the invisible treatment he had given her on the road.

"Altair goes to Jerusalem to complete his third task." Al Mualim continued, bringing her mind back to the present. "However you will remain in Masyaf while he attends to it."

"What? But Master..." she protested, back stiffening. He was taking her off her mission, the most rewarding and challenging mission going. One mistake and she would lose it all.

"This is my decision. Altair will go to Jerusalem and you will remain here. You injured your shoulder at Acre, Aden. You know how wounds can become infected, especially with prolonged use. Malik is the new Bureau Leader of Jerusalem, and he has no love for Altair. He will not allow him to fudge this mission in your absence. When you have healed and he has returned, you will continue to follow him."

So she wasn't being completely removed from her job. This was good. And he was right; she did need to take care of her shoulder. The arrow had missed the muscles but it had still done damage, and healing would be important.

"Thank you Master." She said, bowing when he dismissed her, and leaving the room quietly.

* * *

Altair didn't say goodbye to Aden before he left.

He wished he could be able to say he didn't even consider the possibility of waiting for the young man to leave Al Mualim's presence. Or seeking him out the next day before he mounted up on the healed Ghada and leaving Masyaf once more. Unfortunately he did, but he had stayed strong and had stayed away from the lad.

Without Aden by his side the ride to Jerusalem seemed longer than the road to Acre, and annoyance made him touchy as he paid for a room at a roadside inn.

Aden was nothing...and no one.

He wished he could believe that.

* * *

Altair hadn't said goodbye to her before he left.

She wasn't surprised, and she told herself that she hadn't wanted him to anyway. They were comrades, brothers in arms. She was Aden, sex-less, androgynous, and he was Altair, a master Assassin, despite his recent fall from grace.

If he liked men, then liking her was a lie.

It was a simple truth.

Altair might be a gorgeous man, with a voice that made her decidedly female insides quiver.

But he was nothing to her.

Now...she just had to try and convince herself of it.

* * *

Time at Masyaf seemed to drift by at a different pace to the outside world. Insulated by their isolation, the Assassins practiced and lived in their mountain citadel and town, protected by the dangers of the outside world.

For Aden the days since Altair had left had fallen into a rough pattern. She woke at dawn and made her way through the sleeping citadel dressed in the clothes she wore for combat practice, soft boots in her hand, feet bare as she padded across the cool stones to the practice area. For the first week, she had concentrated on her weaker side, her left hand side, letting her right shoulder heal. But then when the bindings came off and the wound was well on its way to healing she began to introduce exercises to work it as well.

Punches and blocks, swordplay drills, pattern dances, she worked her entire body, building up her fitness to peak condition in preparation for Altair returning.

Then when the citadel began to wake she would pack up her equipment and head back to her small chambers. There she would sharpen and polish her blades, oil her leathers and repair any tears or fraying in her armour.

The midday meal would then be taken and she would spend the afternoon wandering the streets of Masyaf, or walking the tower parapets. She replenished her stores that she carried with her, including the small fruit that eased the ache that her monthlies gave her. Sometimes she even slipped out in woman's garb, veiled and unrecognisable. But there were only so many places to go, and only so many people to see.

Then late in the second week since Altair's departure, the training master dragged her down from the parapets where she had been brooding and walked her, protesting, over to the training grounds.

"Your time could be better spent helping me train these apprentices than sulking up in the tower Aden." He had told her sternly before shoving her into the circle. "Alright lads, let Aden here warm up and then he's going to show you how to fight against a sword with a shortsword."

After that Aden became a regular instructor with the afternoon classes and found to her surprise that she actually enjoyed training and teaching the younger apprentices the skills she had.

* * *

Jerusalem was large and sprawling but Altair made his way carefully through the crowds and through the winding alleys and streets to reach the outside of the Assassins Bureau. Walking around the back he swiftly climbed a ladder and walked across the rooftop to the open trellis.

Climbing down he looked around at the white stone, burbling fountain and patterned cushions before he walked through the courtyard and into the Bureau.

Stepping out of the bright sunshine into the dimmer interior of the Bureau made the assassin pause, letting his eyes adjust. There was a long bench like countertop running the length of the room and behind it a man stood. He was facing the shelves attached to the walls, considering a jar of this and that, but Altair's eyes were drawn to the right hand sleeve of his robe.

The empty right hand sleeve.

"Safety and peace Malik."

The man behind the countertop tensed and turned, sneering, towards the white robed assassin.

"Your presence here deprives me of both. What do you want?"

"Al Mualim has asked..." Altair began, walking over to the counter, only to be interrupted sharply by Malik.

"...asked that you perform some menial task in an effort to redeem yourself. So? Be out with it." The dismissal in his voice made Altair tense and grit his teeth in anger. So when he spoke, he spoke with a bit more bite than he had originally intended.

"Tell me what you can about the one they call Talal."

Malik smirked and Altair clenched his fist, hiding it behind the fall of his robes, "It is your task to find and assassinate the man Altair. Not mine."

"You'd do well to assist me." Altair gritted out, feeling his body tense up even more, "His death benefits the entire land."

"Do you deny his death benefits you as well?"

"Such things do not concern you."

The instant the words left his mouth he knew he had made a mistake. Malik's face hardened even more, eyes flashing dangerously as his single remaining hand came slamming down onto the countertop.

"Your actions very much concern me!" he roared. Altair glared back, not liking the guilty feeling crawling in his belly, and lashed out in return.

"Then don't help me! I'll find him myself..." Malik turned away, lifting a hand with disgust and Altair headed for the door, already wondering about where he could possibly begin. Jerusalem was a big city...a big city.

Malik sighed from behind him, "Wait, wait." Altair turned to see the new Bureau leader looking at the jars behind the counter anywhere but at him, "It won't do having you stumble around the city like a blind man. Better you know where to begin your search."

It was as much of a concession that Altair was going to get, and he knew it. "I'm listening."

"I can think of three places. South of here in the market that runs along the border from the Muslim and Jewish districts, North to the mosque of this district and the western front of Saint Anne's church."

"Is that everything?"

"It's enough to get you started," Malik said, turning away dismissively. As Altair left he heard the man add quietly, "And more than you deserve."

* * *

It was easy enough to get directions from several helpful locals, as to the location of the Saint Anne's church that Malik had mentioned. Walking through the streets, surrounded by the milling, oblivious crowds, he had time to think, to consider.

Aden.

He hated that his mind went straight to contemplation of those dark topaz eyes, that interesting face, and that stubborn mouth. He tried to push it away, tried to remind his body that the boy was in fact a boy. That he liked women, that he certainly didn't like lippy, strong, brash, hot headed boys who were more trouble than they were worth.

His body disagreed.

At the memory of the boy's lips parting under his, the soft catch of breath as he kissed him, the initial submission and then the fight back, he felt a hot stab of sheer molten pleasure through his abdomen. He wanted Aden...wanted him very much.

But...he paused in an alleyway, hand resting against smooth white stone. He couldn't imagine touching the lad. Touching him...in that sense. A part of his mind supplied curves, and soft flesh like a woman, but that didn't make sense. Was he womanising Aden in his mind because he missed the touch of a real woman?

It was all too confusing...much too confusing, and although the touch of Aden's lips to his, and the taste of him haunted Altair's mind, he pushed the thoughts aside.

He had work to do.


	12. Chapter 12: Uncertain Future

**Follow The Creed**

* * *

_**I had an urge to look at this story last night, because I knew I had started this chapter. But when I opened it I realised it was finished and I just hadn't posted it! I'm a smart cookie clearly.**_

_**Anyway, this is yet another filler chapter, Altair completing his mission, and Aden contemplating the place of women in her world. I hope to have chapter 13 done very very soon.**_

* * *

**Chapter 12 - Uncertain Future**

Saint Anne's church was one of the buildings built when the Crusaders had briefly held Jerusalem and it stood out amongst the stalls and traditional architecture around it. Smooth white stone, stained glass windows, a house of worship for the Christian's vengeful God. And out the front of it was a man preaching, not the word of the Christian bible, or even of its morals. No the man was speaking of Talal, exhorting the crowd in the man's favour.

Altair slipped through the gathered watchers, pretending to pay little attention, but keeping his dark eyes fixed firmly on the man in the dusty clothes. Dusty they may be, but the cloth was finer than the material that most of the people in this poor district of the city wore, a sign that whatever Talal paid this man, it was considerably more than the usual wage for a man of his background and former station.

He got close enough to hear the wind down of the man's speech. He was a good orator with a voice that carried well, and he used his hands to accentuate his points. Still Altair wasn't convinced that the man truly believed what he was saying. It would merit investigation.

"Who knows what the future holds, what tragedies tomorrow may bring!" The man waved a finger at his audience, "Defend against an uncertain future! Protect the ones you love! Work hard and you will be rewarded, Talal provides!"

It was clear he had finished because there was a smattering of applause, and he bowed his head, before he stepped down the steps of the church porch and headed round the back as the crowd dissipated. Altair followed him, waiting until the sounds of the street behind were muffled before darting forward. He caught the man a ringing blow on the back of the head, and when he reeled groggily he followed it up with a hook to jaw, and a jab to the throat.

Wheezing, the man dropped to his knees and Altair stood over him, waiting for him to regain his voice.

"I have nothing to say to you." The man gasped out sullenly, once his throat had loosened up enough to allow speech once more.

"Speak to me or speak to God." Altair's voice was hard, unyielding, "It's your choice."

"You won't stop the work he does." A hint of a whine crept into the man's voice, "Cannot stop it."

"Stop what? What work?" Altair pressed him, lifting a knife to press it warningly against his throat.

"He prepares them for the journey." The man told him, hand gesturing a great distance.

"Journey where?"

"They are held in his warehouse and when the time comes they are sent to Acre."

"Where is this warehouse, and why Acre?" Altair felt his skin tingling, this information was gold, just what he needed.

"Talal tells me what I need to know, no more. It's safer that way."

After a moment of consideration Altair reluctantly acknowleged the man spoke truly, it was there in the defeated body language, the drooped head, and he sheathed his knife.

"For him perhaps, but not I fear, for you." There was a moment when the man's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open but by then it was too late and Altair's hidden blade had slid smoothly into his stomach, probably slicing his intestines. No man lived from a belly cut, no matter how talented the healer.

Altair stepped away from the dying man, and darted off down the side passage, heading back towards the souk and the warm light of the sun.

"You appear to be consumed by weighty thoughts." Mahir's gravelly voice broke into her contemplation, and Aden looked up in surprise to see her old friend's head peering at her.

She was lying in the stable loft, idly playing with wisps of golden straw as she thought. Judging by the bale of hay on Mahir's wiry shoulder, the man had been transferring some of the stored food up into her hideaway. He threw the hay bale to the side and then looked at the young woman kindly, beetle black eyes gleaming.

"What is troubling you Aden; you have not been yourself since you returned from Acre. Do not think I cannot see it, I have known you too long."

Aden plucked at a loose white thread on her uniform. While at the citadel most Assassins shucked the more formal costume and wore lighter fabrics except while training. Most found the armour too hot and constrictive to wear day in and day out. But for Aden the uniform was both a comfort and a shield. Plus wearing it helped for practical reasons.

When she had been training as a novice and then an apprentice, she had been easily the smallest and lightest in her class. The boys had seen it and mocked her for it, but it had made her even more determined to prove herself just as good as they. Wearing the uniform all the time, sometimes even adding items to make it heavier, allowed her to adjust to the rigours of training and fighting in the heavier garb much quicker than her classmates.

On top of that she found comfort in the familiar white clothing, the red lining and stitching on the weapons belt and the leather armour below the white tunic. Wearing it she was an Assassin, part of the Brotherhood, she wasn't the girl child that her parents had wished was a boy. Wearing it she was Aden, Assassin.

And if she needed a third reason, there was one. A practical one. It hid her feminine shape and kept her flatly anonymous.

"I..." she sighed and then looked up at the old stable master, "All religions preach that women are weaker than men because they are prey to their own emotions. I never much believed it. I hadn't ever been led astray by my feelings, had never let them rule me. I've never been afraid of mice, never shrieked at the sight of rats, never lost control because of a creeping, crawling insect."

"That's a good thing..." Mahir shifted to sit on the edge of the loft, watching her closely.

"Yes." Aden sighed, "But now...now I'm distracted." She rubbed her face, "Altair...he...fascinates me. He doesn't know I'm a woman." She reassured her friend, "But he kissed me, and he hasn't spoken to me since..."

Mahir eyed her warily, "You're not going to cry are you?"

"No! No..." she shook her head, "No, I just worry about being distracted on a mission because I'm consumed by all these weak feminine emotions. I already slipped up in Acre, I doubt Al Mualim would be so forgiving if I did again."

"Aden." Mahir reached out and brushed a stray strand of dark hair back behind a delicate ear, "Aden, you shouldn't worry so. You are a woman yes, but not many women could hide their sex for so many years and become an Assassin. Fewer would want to. You're special, or strange, you're just going to have to accept it."

Aden smiled, comforted by his words.

If Altair had wanted a contrast between missions he had certainly gotten one this time around.

His time in Acre had been enjoyable, spent in thorough research of his victim and enjoyable company with Aden back at the Bureau. He had taken longer than perhaps he usually would, but that was simply because he was human, and he had been happy.

Jerusalem was different. Malik made life at the Bureau uncomfortable to the point of almost being painful, what with his snarled and muttered jibes and the dark looks sent his way by the City Assassins. They were loyal to their Bureau Leader and it seemed that in the almost two months or so that Malik had been placed in control of things here at Jerusalem, the City Assassins had grown fond of him. As such they knew all about Altair, the failed mission and the death of Kadar.

It made conversation difficult, what with all the cold glares around.

As such he spent most of his days out combing the souks, gathering information and storing it up for his assassination.

Almost three weeks after Altair had left Masyaf he was wandering one of the market's, the one near the great lower district mosque, and heard a snatch of conversation. The name Talal was mentioned and his attention was caught.

"If the guards won't take action, it falls to us to do something." A bald man wearing a red robe insisted, looking around furtively.

"What you propose is madness!" His friend, hissed, flapping his hands anxiously.

"But necessary. How many more will we allow to go missing before the people take a stand?"

"It does not affect us."

"Not yet. But if we continue to do nothing it will." There was silence for a moment, the two men looking at each other before the one wearing blue sighed.

"So what do you propose?"

"I've watched the man, learned everything there is to know about his operation. It's all here on a map I made. He inspects his "stock" every day at the same time. This is when I'll strike!" The red robed man made a violent motion, ignoring his friend's startled squeak.

"So you have a piece of paper. Well it won't save you when you're discovered. It won't shield you from their swords and arrows."

"If all goes well it won't come to that. Anyway, it's a risk I'll have to take. Wish me luck my friend." The two men hugged, tightly, clinging to each other before the blue one stepped back, muttering throatily.

"Indeed. You'll need it." And his friend walked off. The blue robed man lingered, watching him go with a sad expression on his face and Altair felt a pang in his chest. Would he ever feel that regretful about someone dying? Adha maybe, but even then, she wasn't his friend, not like these men were friends.

His mind supplied a sharp little face and dark topaz eyes but he pushed it away furiously and strode after the man in the red robe.

It took very little time to pickpocket the map. Very little time to run back to the Bureau for his feather.

It took a bit longer to have another war of words with Malik but soon he was off and heading for the Warehouse, and his victim.


End file.
